


swept off my feet (god save me now)

by Katraa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: And Viktor is so very happy for it all, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dancing, Flashbacks, Fluff, Karaoke, Lots of things happen, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Sort Of, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wholesome, With A Twist, banquet scene retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 12:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: As if on cue, Yuuri is standing before him, sizing him up like no other.  The rebellious glint in his eye reminds Viktor of amber, the way it defies logic and turns into something so majestic, so sought after, from such humble beginnings.“Hello, Katsuki Yuuri.  We meet again,” Viktor drawls politely, tipping his head so his gaze can lock-on to Yuuri’s.“Dance with me.”post-canon: viktor remembers the banquet as he and yuuri spy on a charming couple having their first date.





	swept off my feet (god save me now)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [virgils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgils/gifts).



> FOR MY DARLING DIN.  
> i just love banquet retellings, ok?  
> and this seemed nerdy and for fun.  
> so there's that.
> 
> flashbacks are always denoted with italics.  
> the present is always in normal font!

“We’ve got a first date on our hands.”

The cacophony of voices around him, each engaged in a different conversation, their own little world, accompanied with the low buzz of the blender and clattering of ice in a stainless steel shaker, makes it hard to parse out the words coming from his right. He’d be able to pick that voice out of a crowd, out of a million voices, the way the words move smooth like honey through the air and slip down his spine in the most pleasant of ways. Now if only he could make out the _words_.

“Huh?”

Again, the voice says in an alluring murmur, “Look towards your left. They’re sitting far enough apart to not be too familiar, but leaned in enough to be interested.”

As he speaks, the voice grows closer, and by the end of it, Yuuri could piece together the message. As if on a line, Yuuri’s eyes move with the voice and land on a couple at the end of the bar. The girl, her hair up in a neat bun and her eyes smoked to all hell, holds a menu between the pair of them so they could each peruse the contents. The man, a well-dressed fellow with sharp eyes and sharper eyebrows, leans in close, his chin hovering just above his acquaintance’s shoulder.

“They could just be friends,” Yuuri finds himself, _hears himself_ , answering, words dropping to a whisper above the din.

“Nonsense.”

It’s a bit strong of a reaction, and Yuuri almost says as much, until he’s politely interrupted, “They were talking about their families and jobs moments ago. As if it was fascinatingly hot news.” A surly smile creeps its way onto the other’s face and bright blue eyes nearly _sparkle_ with mischief. “Ah, it reminds me of the first time we spoke!”

“E-excuse me?”

Again, a hot red crawls its way up the back of Yuuri’s neck. Certainly he wasn’t talking about…

“The banquet, my dear Yuuri.”

“Viktor…”

“Let me refresh your memory!”

* * *

_“Congratulations, Viktor!”_

_“You really were a star out there today!”_

_“Can we take a picture?”_

_The familiar lull of praise and monotony echoed through his ears as he brings his glass of merlot to his lips. Banquets always were like that – exchange a few canned phrases, smile for the camera, discuss plans for next year, and then rinse and repeat. Rarely did they contain the element of surprise which, for Viktor, was fine, as surprises were, according to him, reserved for the ice and the heat of the performance. It wouldn’t do him any _good_ to waste them all in a carpeted banquet hall with fans and competitors half in the bag. _Certainly_ not._

_But the praise was nice. The praise was a constant reminder of the struggles he had faced and the situation he had landed himself in after far too many years of pain, tears and suffering. He had made his dreams come true, and certainly that should be enough for any man, especially one that was so _young_. And granted, he _was_ young, but in terms of figure skating, he reached his own personal pinnacle; he was reaching retirement. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to perform his routines with the same youthful vigor. Soon, his stamina would wear thin and his ankle would snap and his fans would be devastated. Just like he took to the ice, bright and surprising, he’d burn out like a supernova._

_So the praise, the fans, didn’t bother him. No, they were a reminder of the here and now._

_But the passion had faded._

_The excitement, the raw excitement of sparking gazes and raised eyebrows, had faded. There were only so many surprises, so many stunts, one could perform in competitive ice skating. Technical scores and music choices could mix things up, but at the end of the day, there was only a limited set of permutations and combinations one could deign to bring to life._

_It had always been a problem, though, the boredom. From a young age, Viktor had grown intensely fascinated by something and then burned out on it. The older he got, the more challenging the fascinations became, if only because of their promised longevity. For awhile, skating had been _the life changer_. For awhile, skating had broken the mold and captivated and made him feel _more alive_ than he ever had._

_But even that was fading. Even now, the practiced smiles and charming murmurs felt forced, once exuding natural and genuine confidence and happiness. When did it happen? Where did he go wrong?_

_“Look at him! I’m surprised he’s made an appearance.”_

_Viktor’s eyes track the direction in which Chris is pointing. At the far end of the banquet hall is the charmingly quiet Katsuki Yuuri who had crashed on the ice and nearly fainted at the very idea of taking a picture with Viktor Nikiforov._

_“That’s hardly sportsmanlike of you, Chris,” Viktor tutts, raising a single finger to thoughtfully tap at his lips._

_“No, no,” laughs Chris and he clasps Viktor encouragingly on the shoulder, only stumbling once. “With how he ran away from you earlier, I didn’t think he’d want to be around _any_ of us. Guess I was wrong!” _

_As subtle as a sledgehammer._

_“Or perhaps his coach is forcing him,” lilts Viktor and he’s only half-serious as he watches Yuuri alternate between reaching for flutes of champagne and analyzing his shoes as if they’re a rare specimen he _just_ has to study lest the moment pass him forever. The glasses certainly fit the scientist persona._

_“You, me, later,” Chris says as he lets go of his friend’s shoulder, slipping away. “Save the last dance for your oldest friend, yeah?”_

_Viktor merely chuckles in response, never committing but always proper and with proficient ease. And it’s true, Chris _is_ one of his few friends, one of his trusted bunch, but that doesn’t mean he gets too much in the way of honesty. Rather, he doesn’t get lies from Viktor, but Viktor hasn’t felt the sincere joy of smiling, of laughing, more than a few times a month as of late. It’s getting hard to tell the real from the fake and that’s troubling in a tangled way he doesn’t wish to sort through tonight._

_“Ugh, he’s pissing me off,” comes a voice from his far right._

_“Awww, Yuri. Are you upset that Chris is complimenting your free skate again?” Viktor doesn’t even turn to him, a poignant sip of his wine punctuating his inquiry._

_“Are you kidding me?” snaps the blonde who definitely is glaring daggers at him. “That creep doesn’t know talent, even if it bit him in the ass. And speaking of that—”_

_Viktor stops listening when his eyes lock with honey brown from across the room. It’s silly, describing eyes in such a way, but it’s the one word that sticks in his mind and _vibrates_ because Yuuri’s eyes are warm and with flecks of gold in those pools of brown and –_

_And oh. Oh he looks positively livid._

_Step by step, the Japanese skater makes his way over, setting down a flute clumsily on a high table along the way. When he’s finally reached Viktor, standing a modest two feet in front of him, he accusingly wags a finger, hunched over for whatever reason. Curled in on himself, perhaps, would make more sense but Yuuri doesn’t seem timid, no, he seems raging, like a bull about to charge._

_“I can’t! Believe you!”_

_“Oh?”_

_“You didn’t…! You don’t even! You didn’t even recognize me! How do you not analyze your competition?! Everyone… the facts... the interviews say you do and—Argh!”_

_Viktor nearly winces at the nearly shrill growl Yuuri manages at the very end. The boy, who was quiet and modest only hours before, with those sad eyes, is all but tearing his own hair out._

_“Ah, but Yuuri, who said I didn’t recognize you?” Viktor says, lips twisting in slight amusement. “I had noticed you were watching me during the entire competition, so I figured I’d break the ice by asking for a photograph.”_

_Yuuri doesn’t seem to latch onto the pun. Instead, he latches onto Viktor’s wrist._

_“You’re! You’re lying! And ugh! Ugh!” Yuuri spins around when he hears snickering and lo and behold, Yuri is standing there, eyebrows raised all the way to the arctic. “Oh my god it’s you! Why would you ever kick a stall door?! You’re so rude!”_

_And the moments blur together after that._

_In one moment, it looks as if Viktor is going to have to play referee to the oddest feud he’s ever seen, and the next, both of the younger men are pushing each other out of the way towards the dance floor. It happens so fast that Viktor barely registers the shout from Yuuri about _winner gets to be coached by Viktor!__

_It’s peculiar._

_It’s a surprise._

_It’s just what Viktor needed._

__

* * *

“W-what do you mean I challenged Yuri to a dance-off?”

Yuuri sputters and soon forgets about the doting couple at the end of the bar. Instead, _his_ ears and cheeks are the ones stained red in embarrassment. 

“Oh? You don’t remember? I wonder why!” Viktor laughs and it sounds like bells, the man leaning his chin down into the cup of his palm. “You did have quite a bit to drink, you know. Chris challenged you to shots after you pole-danced with him.”

“I did _what_?” Yuuri says and he’s turned pale, his skin rivaling ice. 

“Mhm,” Viktor says and there’s wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the natural warmth of a smile, “Would you like to see the pictures? I’ve made an album of them. I used to look at them when you were being cold and mean to me, Yuuri.”

“What…”

Yuuri had known there had been the banquet and some weird exchanges, but what he hadn’t known all these years was that much of their history traced back to those pivotal hours. What Yuuri didn’t know was why Chris found it necessary to grope his ass or why Yuri was so irritated at him or why Viktor had chosen eros for _him_ and why—

“Show me.”

“Oh, maybe I won’t. Isn’t it fun to keep you wondering?”

“It’s not.”

“Hmmm, maybe a trade.”

“Viktor!”

It’s then when their eyes drift over to the young couple. At this point, they’ve ordered an appetizer to share and have scooted closer. There’s delight in both their eyes and a hefty blush painting their cheeks. Yuuri temporarily forgets about his own flustered array of feelings in favor of admiring how saccharinely sweet the moment unfolding before them really is.

“It seems they’re having better luck than I did,” Viktor hums and Yuuri almost kicks him under the bar. “You know, when I showed up at the hot springs and you were so cold to me, I almost went home.”

“No you didn’t,” Yuuri murmurs - _not a chance_.

“You’re right, I didn’t,” laughs Viktor and he places his hand gently on top of his fiancé’s, the gold of their rings sparkling even in the low, artificial light of the bar. “I had promised to be your coach, even if you didn’t remember. When I saw you skate my routine, I couldn’t resist. I knew it had to be you.”

There’s an eep that almost spills out of Yuuri upon hearing those words said so boldly. He’s certain he’s gotten the sentiment millions of times by now, but to hear them, rather than feel them with their bodies and their routines, well, it’s on an entirely new plane. It’s ethereal.

“You could have just told me, could have _reminded_ me of the fool I made of myself,” mutters Yuuri but it isn’t lace with vitriol, rather, it’s warm and shy. His eyes wander back to the couple and he finds himself sighing almost nostalgically.

“Hmmm, but where’s the surprise in that?” winks Viktor and Yuuri nearly kicks him _again_.

* * * 

_“Nikiforov,” growls Yuri and Viktor knows he means business, because Yuri rarely ever uses his last name and oh boy does Yuri look positively enraged. “Keep! Your Japanese fanboy! Away from me!”_

_Viktor laughs, a quick shake of his head dispelling the notion. “Fanboy? He positively hates me, Yuri. You ought to get your eyes checked—“_

_“Viktor.”_

_As if on cue, Yuuri is standing before him, sizing him up like no other. The rebellious glint in his eye reminds Viktor of amber, the way it defies logic and turns into something so majestic, so sought after, from such humble beginnings._

_“Hello, Katsuki Yuuri. We meet again,” Viktor drawls politely, tipping his head so his gaze can lock-on to Yuuri’s._

_“Dance with me.”_

_Oh. He hadn’t been expecting--_

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_“Dance with me,” repeats Yuuri and he jabs a thumb right at his chest, and then Viktor’s chest, and then back again. “I want to show you that my step sequence is just as good as yours. That I can… That I can be as free as you on the ice!”_

_Viktor isn’t sure what to say. To be free, hm? That’s certainly a novel concept. But the bold tenacity is refreshing and Viktor can’t help himself. He hasn’t had someone speak to him with such conviction - that isn’t misplaced jealousy – in years. It’s endearing and Viktor is a sucker for the unexpected._

_“Oh, Yuuri. You have no idea what you’ve asked,” chuckles Viktor and he gladly accepts the open-palm in front of him._

_They take to the dance floor like seasoned skaters, like seasoned dancers, knowing each other’s bodies and rhythm as if it’s been written in the stars. It’s with remarkable ease that they start to dance, a tango and then a waltz. It’s with amazing grace that Viktor finds himself led by another, for once in the passive role. It’s with _surprise_ that Viktor realizes that Yuuri isn’t just mimicking him like he thought he would, expected he would, but has his own flair, his own zest, and is improvising when the planned steps just won’t cut it._

_“You’re quite good,” Viktor says, wall upon wall building around him, red flag after red flag storming the shores of his mind._

_“I used to take ballet,” explains Yuuri and he doesn’t sound as angry, or nearly as sloppy, as earlier._

_“Did you? That does make sense,” Viktor hums as he’s twirled by Yuuri, pulled back in at the last moment, and his heart soars, “You’re light on your feet and have a certain grace.”_

_He’s expecting the other to get flustered. What happens is quite the opposite, “I can show you more of that grace, if you’d like.”_

_And there it is, that sexy confidence that Viktor once had, once truly felt to his bone. There in that moment is a beautiful young boy who could take on the world and not batt a lash. How long had it been since someone spoke so candidly to him? Someone talked so openly without their words?_

_“You’d have to dance another song with me,” says Viktor._

_“Make it two.”_

_“Ah, a man after my heart.”_

* * * 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Viktor murmurs just when Yuuri had returned to his champagne, thinking it was safe to enjoy the quiet solitude that was so comfortable around them. The taste just isn’t as sweet anymore – nothing compared to his fiancé.

“Huh?”

“I’m going to pretend to answer a call outside. I’ll nonchalantly nudge that gentleman closer to his fine young date on the way. We’ll see what happens when they’re in such close proximity!” whispers Viktor with the most delighted lilt a man of his stature and age should ever have.

“Viktor!” Yuuri is utterly scandalized. “You can’t—”

But before he can do anything about it, Viktor rises from the bar stool and gracefully makes his way towards the entrance. As he threatened, his body pivots in such a way that he bumps shoulders - crashes, really, - with the gentleman and causes him to jerk unexpectedly right into the personal space of his surprised date.

Her blush says it all, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree, body language unguarded.

Yuuri thinks, in that moment, that must have been how he looked the first time Viktor truly held him.

* * * 

_“I want to kiss you, Yuuri,” repeats Viktor for the fifth time as Yuuri leads him into yet another dip on the dance floor. “Truly, I do. You’re very beautiful. And you’ve been teasing me all night.”_

_“No, not like this,” insists Yuuri, his hand slipping up from Viktor’s shoulder to the man’s puckered lips once he brings him back to his feet. He bends like a bow. “It can’t be like this, Viktor.”_

_“But why not?” pouts Viktor but didn’t dare to move an inch away. “Are you secretly Cinderlla, Yuuri? Going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”_

_“It has to be a surprise,” explains Yuuri with a twinkle in his eyes, face still flushed, but with such conviction that it sends a jolt through Viktor._

_“Would it be a surprise in five minutes?” Deflection. Humor. He shouldn’t look into this, read into this, look _forward_ to this._

_“Viktor!”_

_The sound is such a pleasant one – like soft ocean waves cresting against the sand, the morning light new and softly casting a glowing light onto the world. It’s the sound of skates hitting ice for the first time, the sound of cheers and praise and childhood memories locked so deeply away that they’d been forgotten. It’s the good in the world, it really is, and Viktor wants to hear it on an endless loop._

_“Ten minutes?”_

_“Not even fifteen.”_

_“But Yuuri… that’s quite a long time.”_

_“Kiss me when it’s a surprise.”_

* * * 

“They look happy.”

Viktor is entirely too pleased with himself, reclaiming his stool and casting a not-so-subtle glance back at the couple who haven’t separated since the awkward bump. Their smiles perfectly mirror each other and it’s a wild game of inching hands closer until one of them eventually breaks and holds on for dear life, fingers intertwined as if it had always been that way.

“They do,” Yuuri comments and he sighs happily into his drink. “I’m not going to condone your behavior. That was awfully rude of you.”

“But I had good intentions,” whines Viktor, knocking their glasses together. “And now you must drink, my dear Yuuri. It’s tradition.”

“Sometimes I think you make these things up.”

The mutter goes unheard because seconds later the cute girl is standing right next to Yuuri. At first he doesn’t see her, but their eyes meet in the mirror and he almost jumps out of his skin. Shit. Shit they’ve been _caught_ , meddling and prying and being a couple of awful strangers. Panic sets in and Yuuri certainly feels like his limbs are locking up, the old familiar stirrings of anxiety clawing at his stomach, his mind. What if she yells? What if she smacks them? They’d deserve it, maybe, what if she –

“You’re,” she starts and Yuuri thinks ah, she’s a fan of Viktor’s, she’s come over to ask for a photograph, the anxiety slowly easing off. His heartbeat hasn’t returned to normal but his death grip on his glass isn’t about to shatter it anymore, at least.

“Katsuki Yuuri. Can I take a selfie with you, please? My daughter loves you!”

And then, in that moment, Yuuri realizes something very special. 

“She actually wants to try ice skating because of you! She’s going to be so happy. Will you?”

He realizes that the power to influence others, to encourage others, to be a hero, is so much more important than just the confidence and self-fulfillment on the ice. It’s something to be cherished, to be shared, to make the world a better place.

“You have quite the fan, Yuuri,” Viktor coos from his side, his eyes lighting up and _god_ , he couldn’t look any prouder in that moment.

* * * 

_”I… need to go to bed. Or something.”_

_The night is winding down and Yuuri has gone from talking a mile a minute about the dog he once had, the family he left in Japan, his favorite comics, his favorite books, what he likes to wear to bed, to being sullen. It’s a strange dip in his behavior and Viktor feels worried, feels something pull at him that hasn’t in years. It’s odd to think someone could possibly know another after six hours, but he does. He believes it. He feels like Yuuri is an old friend that just appeared from the darkness after so many years. He thinks of him like an old coat at the back of the closet, sometimes forgotten but the most comfortable and never one to be parted with._

_Where had he been? Where had a friend like this been for so many years?_

_“Are you feeling ill, Yuuri?”_

_“I think? Maybe? Oh god I never drink like that.”_

_Viktor can’t help the bubble of laughter that rips from him, raw and exposed. “You had me fooled. I was certain you were a frequenter of these types of things.”_

_Viktor is about to say more, wants to say more, wants to add Yuuri’s number to his phone, but he can’t. There’s no time. Someone reaches for Yuuri in that moment and in a flash, the boy is being ushered away by a stranger, someone muttering about the late hour and an early flight and how he needs to be responsible._

_Viktor’s heart, for the first time in year, clenches, and it pangs. It isn’t heartbreak – that’d be silly, he barely knows the boy – but it’s the ember of a hope, of a maybe, dying._

_Be my coach, Yuuri had begged. Please teach me. Please come visit me. Let’s dance like this for always._

_In that moment, Viktor had wanted a friend more than anything, and it had been so easily ripped from him._

_But Yuuri would keep his word, he’d reach out, he’d find him, he’d ping him on social media, right?_

_… Right?_

__

* * * 

“Viktor, I can’t believe it.”

Yuuri is peering over his fiance’s shoulder, watching the likes add up before his eyes. Viktor had taken the selfie and posted it on his own insta with the caption out with @katsuki-y and we met his second biggest fan after me ♥ @tempestly and her daughter.

“Oh? Why wouldn’t you? You’re quite the catch, Yu-uri,” murmurs Viktor thoughtfully as he refreshes the screen, the numbers multiplying in rapid succession. “Hm. You’re going to break my record, one of these days!”

The bright and airy tone makes Yuuri laugh. Slowly, Yuuri drops his chin down to Viktor’s shoulder and rests, comfortable and at ease. “I’d never do that. Besides, Makkachin is the real reason why you have so many likes.”

“ _Yuuri_ , I’m offended,” Viktor balks.

“Or your muscles. Maybe it’s both.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Mm, or maybe it’s your grey hair, old man,” Yuuri continues as Viktor pivots his head and their lips come dangerously close, hanging in the air, the moment, and the way Yuuri radiates light, happiness, _home_ is indescribable. 

Instead of continuing their battle of wits, Viktor’s voice drops lower, “I know the perfect punishment for you, Katsuki.”

“Punishment?”

Yuuri blinks, the teasing façade slipping. A brow lifts and he sits back in his stool, clearly uncertain. That’s never a good sign – a Viktor seeking out a challenge is all sorts of dangerously bad.

“Oh yes, indeed,” says Viktor as he rises from the stool and leans in close, their breathes mingling, hot and heavy, and he says over the roar of the bar, “I’m going to serenade you.”

“Oh god, I wish you wouldn’t.”

And that’s how Viktor Nikiforov ended up on the wooden stage, grasping at a sticky microphone, waving excitedly to the few people in the bar that recognized him as that one Russian ice skater. Yuuri instantly buries his face into his hands and slips even lower, becoming one with his stool. His drink is at the ready and he makes eye-contact with the bartender, mouthing, “I’ll pay you double if you make sure my glass is never empty.”

And then the music starts and Yuuri is about to have a stroke. An actual _stroke_.

It’s an American song, that’s for certain. Yuuri had heard it once, maybe twice, when he was studying in Detriot. In fact, if he remembers, it was at a baseball game he and Phichit went to when they were having a day off to recoup. 

Viktor’s low voice booms out the words slowly, eyes landing squarely on Yuuri.

He’s singing – actually singing, with a very serious and misplaced, seductive look on his face – Sweet Caroline.

Yuuri doesn’t need to look at the other patrons to know this is being live-streamed.

* * * 

_He doesn’t call._

_He doesn’t call or add him on social media and he doesn’t make any attempt. The spark that had been there, he hadn’t imagined. There had definitely been something in those hours that made Viktor want to seek it out and puzzle through it. It was novel, it was new, it was pure and something so precious that he felt ridiculous even thinking about it now._

_It had been weeks._

_It was almost a month now._

_Yuuri Katsuki wasn’t going to call him._

_Yuuri Katsuki had broken what little heart he had left without ever touching his lips._

_And it hurt._

__

* * *

“I can’t believe you did that.”

Yuuri is still hiding behind his hands, skin on fire, as Viktor reclaims the bar stool next to him. Somewhere in the midst of his song, the young couple had scooted closer and now they were holding hands and discussing the future – a second date, other plans. 

“Come now, Yuuri, I have to have my revenge.”

“Are you talking about the banquet again?” whines Yuuri, head lolling back and hitting the rest of the stool. “Viktor, you know I don’t remember any of that! My family gets crazy when they drink. It – it wasn’t my fault!”

“Oh? Whose fault was it, then?”

“Yours.”

“How?”

“For being so stupidly attractive and perfect,” murmurs Yuuri, arms folding, petulant and face definitely not stained red from alcohol. “If you hadn’t startled me earlier and made me think you didn’t know who I was, after I had come so far just to stand by your side—”

Viktor laughs and catches one of Yuuri’s hands. In fact, he catches the right one and allows their rings to glimmer in the dark light of the bar. “And I am at your side now. Forever, in fact.”

The irritation fades and a smile, so bright, so large, takes shape. It blossoms and Yuuri finds himself completely forgetting about the other couple in favor of staring right into Viktor’s eyes.

“… All right, we’re even now.”

“Not quite.”

“ _Viktor!_ ”

* * * 

_And when he kissed him, when he finally kissed him after such turmoil, such confusion, so many mixed signals and dips and lows and highs and tears, when Viktor finally kissed the boy who had captivated his heart and mind so easily, who wrote him a love letter with his body, he made sure it was a surprise, right there on the ice._

_He always kept his promises._

**Author's Note:**

> gosh, i wonder why i picked sweet caroline -- let me know your thoughts ♥


End file.
